chapter 3

The new semester was just around the corner. I was in the dorm, packing up some things, when Lydia walked in.

It had only been a short while since I'd last seen her, but she looked completely different.

She was wearing a short skirt and high heels, her hair styled in loose curls, and she even kept on a pair of oversized sunglasses indoors.

When she caught me staring, Lydia gave a little scoff and slid the shades off her face.

Under the light, the surgery marks on her skin were hard to miss. No wonder she was hiding behind those glasses.

She said, "What are you looking at? You think just because you wouldn't lend me money, I couldn't figure things out? Grace, don't flatter yourself."

I shrugged, forcing a dry smile. "If you've got that much cash, maybe you should pay back what you borrowed from me. Think of it as throwing a bone to this broke roommate of yours."

Aimee quickly stepped between us, rushing to back her up. "Grace, come on. Do you really have to be like this? We're talking about a couple of meals. How can you hound her about it every single day?"

I turned my head slowly and gave her a look. "Then why don't you cover it? Since you two are besties, you shouldn't mind picking up the tab for her, right?"

That shut Aimee up. She froze, lips pressed tight, clearly not expecting me to throw it back at her like that.

She was always generous with other people's wallets.

Lydia was getting pissed, rolling her eyes at me.

She replied, "Fine. If you're so desperate, I'll just send it to you right now. After this, we don't owe each other a damn thing."

She whipped out her phone, tapped a few times, and sent me two hundred dollars.

Once the transfer came through, I didn't bother saying another word. I'd already decided I'd talk to our counselor in a couple of days about moving out. Living with someone like her day in and day out was exhausting.

Lydia turned her attention to the mirror, pulling outfit after outfit from her closet, spinning in front of the glass and demanding Aimee's opinion.

Aimee giggled as she watched her. She teased, "Why are you getting so dressed up tonight? Got a hot date?"

Lydia deliberately raised her voice, shooting a look my way.

She replied, "Of course. Finlay asked me to dinner. He even booked a table at my favorite restaurant. So, what should I wear?"

Finlay Simpson was Lydia's dream guy—famous in our department for being rich, and only dated gorgeous girls.

Lydia had been obsessed with him, and the surgery was all for him.

Aimee gasped, hands covering her mouth as if she'd just been told the biggest secret of her life.

She called out, "Oh, my God. Finlay asked you out? Lydia, this is your chance! You better lock him down while you can! If you marry into money, we'll all get to ride your coattails."

Lydia practically glowed at the praise, her nose tilted so high it was a wonder she could still see straight.

She replied, "Exactly. Once I'm his girlfriend, his family's money will practically be mine. Don't worry. I'll take care of you too. There was no need to work, and money would come in every month. I'll even throw in some introductions if any of his rich friends are single."

She paused and then sneered, "Not like some people around here who don't know better. Cross me, and I'll make sure you regret it."

I looked up from my pile of books.

Then I replied, "Make sure you keep those sunglasses on tonight. Wouldn't want to give your dream guy nightmares."

Lydia glared at me, and she was ready to fire back.

Just then, her phone rang. In an instant, her whole face softened. She answered with a sugary tone, "Sure. I'm coming down now!"

The moment she hung up, her smile dropped. She shot me a sharp glare.

"Grace, just wait. Don't think a little cash makes you special. Once I've got Finlay, I'll make sure you don't last here."

With that, she swung her hips and strutted out of the room.

Watching her leave, I couldn't help but laugh under my breath.

Who was Finlay, really?

He was a total player. He'd dated countless girls, never sticking to one. There was no way someone like Lydia could tie down a guy like that.

Last time around, I'd figured that out early, which was why I never let Lydia fall too deep.

Even when Finlay came on to me, I turned him down flat. I knew the truth. I was just one of many in his little collection.

But Lydia never believed me. She thought I was stopping her from getting surgery just so I could steal Finlay for myself.

This time, she finally got what she wanted and went on a date with him. But I'd seen her face without the glasses. The swelling around her eyes was bad, the surgical cuts at the corners were already showing signs of infection.

The clinic she'd gone to had long since disappeared, leaving her with nowhere to complain, nowhere to get help.

I wondered how Finlay, who only cared about looks, would react once he saw her face up close. Would he still be interested?